How to Disarrange a Marriage
by Hikari M666
Summary: Gaara, the President's son, is being forced into a public spectacle of a wedding. He doesn't care about his fiancee one bit, and she doesn't care about him either. Their attractive male wedding planner, on the other hand... AU, NejiGaa, yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Why am I writing a new story instead of the next chapter of _Usurper? _Because I'm a terrible person, that's why. Apparently I've made it my mission to overload myself with unfinished stories. On the plus side, now that it's up, it means I can never abandon it!**

**Really, I had to write this one because I don't have any Neji/Gaara-centric stories up yet, and after spending my holiday watching wedding shows, I realised that after getting married I have a lot of leftover knowledge about wedding planning, and I've never tried the whole 'write about what you know' thing before. So hopefully this comes across as knowing what I'm talking about a bit!**

**Keeping ambiguous about what country this is set in. It has a President, but I don't want to call it America necessarily, because I don't know too much about American systems. Or American wedding prices. XD**

**Oh, and last of all - whatever it may look like, there will not be even a second of Gaara/Tenten in this.**

* * *

It was ten twenty-nine a.m. according to both the hotel reception clock and Gaara's own watch. He was an impatient man, and if the person he was supposed to be meeting here was even a minute late, he was going to leave. The lobby of Tennyson Tower One was stark and uninviting, although they would have marketed it as 'pristine and spacious', and even though he was about as much of a V.I.P. as one could be, he felt the staff were giving him hostile looks. He got those a lot.

Mostly it was his tattoo that garnered the unhappy stares – it was a Japanese symbol drawn conspicuously on his forehead in a colour that matched his red hair – but in his father's social circle, even having last season's shoes could get you into trouble. They were the elite, the highest of the upper class, and Gaara was left squeezed from both sides into a mould he just didn't fit. The political and social worlds bored him; not the most ideal situation for the youngest son of the President, but there it was.

His eyes flickered over to the clock again and saw that the long hand had ticked onto the metallic VI, indicating that the time had come. Automatically, he stood up and headed for the revolving doors. He wasn't waiting. He stepped around a well-dressed man who was coming inside and kept going.

"Gaara Sabaku?"

Immediately reacting to the sound of his own name, Gaara looked back over his shoulder – and since he was already inside the revolving door, the panel behind him kept spinning and hit him square in the face.

"Shit!" he cursed under his breath, staggering backwards into the other panel. He blinked rapidly to ease the shock and was eventually able to follow the door back inside. He could feel his face burning with humiliation rather than pain; public figures were poised, polished, not clumsy and letting doors run into them!

Everyone in the reception area was staring at him. He glared back, daring them to say something, silently demanding that they forget such an embarrassing display. The Tennyson employees knew him well and he suspected it would be nigh impossible to stop them from running their gossipy mouths off about him, but with any luck his father's name carried enough fear to stop them. The uniformed men and women were biting back laughter, some of them actually reaching for their phones already.

"Don't you dare," he warned the nearest one. "In a few months I'll be your boss, so is this cheap laugh really worth it?"

The lady's tiny smile vanished completely as she turned away, abashed. Gaara was satisfied that this was sufficient to scare the staff. Now there was only one person left to deal with: the man who had just entered before his little accident, the one who had called out Gaara's name.

It was an elegantly-dressed man, without a doubt, with long hair tied back in a loose ponytail, and cologne that made Gaara wrinkle his nose even as he recognised the expensive label. He despised cologne. It choked him. The stranger seemed ignorant of his distaste and took a step towards him, adjusting his aubergine tie as he did.

"Neji Hyuuga," he introduced himself smartly. "I recognise you from the papers, of course, and Tenten has kept me well-informed."

Gaara held out his hand to shake Neji's without enthusiasm. So he would have to go through with this meeting after all, on a day that was rapidly turning into one of his worst. Wonderful.

"Shall we go up to the restaurant to talk, perhaps? Most of my clients enjoy having wedding discussions over a cup of tea or coffee – or even something stronger, if the nerves hit them." Neji smiled with good humour. Gaara couldn't help but notice how conspicuously the man was avoiding mentioning his accident with the door. Was he just being tactful? Or, like the staff, was he holding back until the perfect moment to laugh at what he'd seen, like when the media were around?

Still, Gaara nodded. "The third floor. Whatever you order is free of charge, of course."

Neji kept smiling. It looked plastic. "Tenten always says the same."

As they made their way into the polished elevator, Gaara felt a familiar sinking sensation in his stomach. Whether it was about his Neji Hyuuga or about the situation in general, he didn't know, but either way he knew the next six months were going to be hell of the highest degree.

He was getting married. _Married. _Married, for his father's publicity, to a woman he had no feelings for, in an institution in which he had very little belief. And to extend the torture, he was being handed the best wedding planner in the city and was expected to control every step of the planning process.

The whole unappealing event began several years before any engagement notice hit the newspapers, back when Gaara's father held a modest political office well below his current one. The President at the time was caught in an inextricable economic scandal and the media and the public were out for his blood. Reporters scurried around politicians' workplaces and homes to get a quote about the situation, but of course the politicians knew better – that is, apart from Gaara's father. Flustered by being badgered by journalists day after day, he lashed out: he cracked and yelled with several cameras on him that the President was a no-talent, out-of-control hack with the financial sense of a walrus.

The video went viral within hours, and he became the most popular politician in living memory.

A year later when the nominations for new presidential candidates rolled around, his party decided it would be stupid not to select him. What followed was a long period of successful campaigning and a landslide victory, but like with every leader, it didn't take long for the honeymoon phase to end, and suddenly the people's political hero was the cause of a lot of dissatisfaction.

Now, in the lead-up to a new election, his advisers suggested a family wedding to worm him back into the hearts of the people.

Temari, his eldest child and only daughter, was the heir to his political reign and couldn't afford any distractions like marriage.

Kankuro, his eldest son, was the black sheep of the family and hadn't been seen since he left high school.

And so the position of social pawn had fallen upon Gaara, the youngest, barely twenty-two and already signing his life away. He had put up a vicious fight in the beginning, but his father drove a hard bargain, and finally he gave in. it wasn't as if any other weddings were in his foreseeable future.

The only positive part of this was that his bride – his lip curled distastefully at the word – was as uninvested in this marriage as he was. She was the adopted daughter of Richard Tennyson, owner of Tennyson Towers hotels, and was due to come into her inheritance as soon as the old man retired, which was any day now. The young lady's name, possibly a nickname brought on by her surname (Gaara hadn't asked), was Tenten. She was charming, witty, sporty, and yet in no way attractive to Gaara. Nor was he to her.

She cared so little about their upcoming wedding that she remarked last time they met, "A circus monkey can decorate a ballroom better than me. In fact, you do it! I know a planner; I'll put you two in touch and you can organise the whole shebang. Everyone will think it's sweet, the groom trying to do it all himself. Just please, please, _please_, don't talk to me about weddings! Ugh!"

It was good that they shared the same sentiment, but of course this left Gaara with the painful task of being in charge of this mess. At least in exchange Tenten was handling any media interest, accepting interviews and making the Sabaku family look good.

So now Gaara was stuck with this wedding planner friend of hers, this Neji person. Admittedly, he had expected a woman, but that hardly bothered him more than anything else about this.

The elevator chimed and opened right into the hotel restaurant, bustling with breakfast patrons. The hostess at the entrance recognised Gaara immediately and hurried to get him the best free table. Neji appeared comfortable; apparently he and Tenten had known each other since they were about seven, so he was probably used to receiving special treatment at her hotels, too. However, Gaara suspected that they hadn't seen each other in a long time, or else his picture would have made the papers with hers, along with some caption like _Tennyson Socialite off the Market?_

"Well," Neji said after ordering a complex coffee from a waitress. "Tenten didn't tell me much, just that I was to work with her fiancé to put together a March wedding. I'm thrilled at the opportunity, of course. This is a big deal, obviously, considering who you both are. To start with, let me offer my –"

"Don't say congratulations," Gaara interrupted.

Neji's professional expression slipped a bit. "I'm sorry?"

"If I'm going to be a part of this, I won't do it under false pretences. There's no point pretending this wedding is anything other than a political manoeuvre."

Gaara didn't know if it was wise to be so blunt, or if Tenten was intending to let all her friends believe this was a real marriage, but it felt good to vent the truth. He wasn't allowed to do that often. Studying Neji's reaction, it seemed that the other man was being honest when he said he didn't know much: his brow was creased with the smallest of frowns, like he was experiencing something new and puzzling, but was well-trained in not revealing unwelcome emotions.

"I… appreciate your candour," he said. "Although it puts me in an unusual position. Is there something I can do to make my service more – ah – appropriate for what you're after in a wedding?"

"I don't care," Gaara replied steadily. "I'm sure I should be telling you to make it a huge, public spectacle, but I really don't care at all. Do whatever you want."

He was being deliberately hostile, and perhaps Neji didn't deserve it, but then he was a wedding planner. Right now he represented everything wrong in Gaara's world.

Unexpectedly, Neji laughed. There was both something pleasant and unpleasant about hearing that laugh: it was a cool, refreshing sound, cutting through his polished professionalism like a sudden breeze – having spent all of his adulthood around rich sycophants, Gaara was an expert at spotting a fake laugh and he knew without a doubt that this wasn't one – but that being said, it wasn't a very likeable sound. It made Gaara think of a movie villain being caught out in the final stage of his plot.

"All right," Neji said after regaining his composure. "I get it. I suppose with Tenten being involved, I shouldn't have expected anything to proceed normally. And I suspect it's been some time since you yourself were associated with the word 'normal'."

Was it an insult? Gaara couldn't be sure, so he said nothing.

"If you really prefer, I can organise most of the wedding details without consulting you very often," Neji continued.

"Must you consult me at all?"

"Please, humour me. Not meaning to blow my own horn, but I'm ranked in the top three co-ordinators in the country, and that usually means that my clients have an acute interest in every last, precise detail of their weddings, otherwise they wouldn't waste their money. That's the simple logistics of it. Does that make sense to you? From a professional standpoint, ordinarily I'd be a laughing stock for attempting to seize total control."

Gaara scowled, not liking Neji and his business buzz words at all. _Professional standpoint… simple logistics… _politicians like his father used words like those when they wanted to mask their own ineptitude and lack of understanding. To hear the same verbosity from the mouth of someone as inconsequential as a wedding planner made it even more meaningless.

Their drinks arrived, although neither of them made a move to take a sip. Neji just sat there with his expression of patronising amusement.

"What?" Gaara snapped when it became too much.

"I'm wondering what colour scheme you'd enjoy."

"_Excuse_ me?"

"Don't get worked up. I apologise; this is my job, so it's inevitable that I'm going to have it on my mind."

"Well, the only reason I came here was to let you know I'm not interested in any of this wedding mess, so you don't have to say anything else on the subject." He knew he was being rude, but it didn't bother him under the circumstances.

Neji bowed his head apologetically. "Of course. The customer comes first." He lifted up his mug of coffee, and as he drank from it, his upper lip curled with revulsion as if the barista had gotten his order wrong. In a five-star hotel like Tennyson Towers, such a mistake would be unthinkable, but Gaara had the sneaking suspicion that Neji would get offended if a single grain of sugar too many had been added to the coffee. If he tried to complain about something so trivial, Gaara would throw him out himself.

He didn't, though. They both drank in silence for a minute, Gaara finishing his Chinese white tea a little faster than usual in the hopes that without anything further to discuss, they could leave. He found himself wishing that Neji would snap out of his oily, businessman persona again; at least his villainous laugh was honest.

Looking into the other's mug, Gaara was disgruntled to see he'd hardly drunk a quarter of his beverage. This could drag on for hours.

"How's your head?" Neji asked pleasantly.

"My head?"

"You know, after your little accident downstairs."

Oh, of course. How could Gaara have allowed himself to forget so easily? If there was any reason to avoid being rude to someone, it was that they had seen him make an idiot of himself. Feeling heat rush to his cheeks, he changed the subject. "Why exactly would someone like you want to be a wedding planner?"

Neji arched an eyebrow. "That doesn't count as talking about weddings?"

"I'll allow it this time."

"I won't make the mistake of asking after your health again, then. All right: I co-ordinate weddings because I'm extremely good at it. The money is good and it's a market that is only on the rise."

"The same could be said about many careers," Gaara retorted.

"True," Neji admitted, sipping his coffee once more, still taking his time. "I've also had prior experience with wedding organisation, of course. That was how I learned all the intricate details involved in the work."

"Did you get married yourself?"

"No."

"Are you gay?"

Unexpectedly, Neji coloured. "I don't see how that's relevant."

"It could be." Gaara didn't care about Neji's sexuality one way or the other; to him, the question had been the natural one to ask as the conversation progressed and wasn't meant to imply any criticism. It appeared to offend Neji, though, so he decided to press the issue. "You don't _have _to answer, of course, but you can't deny there's a correlation between men being gay and working in… festive occupations."

Yes, that had well and truly pissed the wedding planner off. He was fully unmasked again, poise gone, uncovering an expression that said he wanted to spit in Gaara's face or worse. Why on earth was this such a sore point for him?

Through thin lips, Neji answered, "There's a big difference between things with which you are born and things you choose. As a matter of fact, I _am _gay. But it certainly isn't a choice and doesn't even slightly relate to any of my professional choices. There are billions of people of all orientations who couldn't do what I do, and gay men have no inherent advantage."

"This sounds like a cause of yours," Gaara said shrewdly.

"Not a cause. Just a personal hate."

"Do your clients discuss your sexuality often?"

"No, that in itself isn't the issue. I… " Neji stopped, as if catching himself before he revealed too much, but then after a moment he continued. "I just have a problem with people assuming I was born into any role. No matter how good a co-ordinator I am, if I didn't want to pursue it, I wouldn't have. I'm sure you can relate to that in some way. Did you honestly have no choice at all about this marriage?"

Gaara considered, and shrugged noncommittally. It seemed a fair comparison: he was being forced to get married, true, but there was every chance that if either he or Tenten had protested violently enough they might have escaped. He wondered now what bearing this had on Neji and his career. Perhaps some older relative had nudged him towards wedding planning and it was only reluctantly that he liked it at first. Perhaps now his whole family assumed they controlled his decisions, and he resented that.

"I suppose I can empathise," Gaara said.

Another sip of coffee. "Are _you _gay?" Neji questioned.

"No."

Yes. But he didn't have to share everything.

"Of course. You're not in a _festive occupation_, so how could you be?"

"Is this your way of telling me to apologise for using that stereotype? Because I won't."

"Why?"

"Because it wiped the infuriating smirk off your face."

Neji blinked, looking genuinely surprised. Behind his eyes, the synapses in his brain were firing wildly to understand and interpret what Gaara said, like he really didn't anticipate ever hearing such a thing. Tentatively he picked up his coffee mug, studied it, then put it straight back down again. "I don't smirk," he said – suspiciously, like he thought Gaara was deliberately lying.

"Yes, you do."

"I may approach clients with a very formal outlook –"

"You smirk," Gaara reiterated. "And I didn't appreciate it. As your client, if we ever have to meet again, I advise you to remain more like you are right now. Less pretentious."

"Pretentious," Neji repeated. He still seemed disbelieving. "You think I'm pretentious."

"I imagine everyone thinks the same and just keeps it to themselves. They probably think it would be rude to complain about it."

Unreadable for a second, Neji's face cracked into a faint smile. A real one. "Or all of the people I know are equally as pretentious and don't notice it."

"That's also possible." Gaara didn't quite smile back, but he did all of a sudden feel a bit less hostility towards Neji, like this was a humble admission of fault. By criticising others like himself, Neji was giving the impression that his tailored suit, silk tie, slick hair and even slicker attitude were nothing but a tawdry costume for playing pretend, and not at all part of his real persona.

What would Neji look like, Gaara wondered while shifting about in his seat, if he wasn't here in an official capacity? The life of a wedding planner must have left plenty of casual time, so he surely wore casual clothes. Maybe he was a jumper-and-track-pants kind of person. He might have worn sandals. He almost certainly would have let his hair out of its strict ponytail. Gaara enjoyed the idea of informal clothing; being in the public eye so much, he himself was barely allowed out without a tie, lest it embarrass his father. He occasionally envied his brother, far away without any care for this political nonsense, probably barefoot with a wife-beater singlet in the streets somewhere, but there could only be one eccentric in every power family. The other relatives had to be twice as ordinary to compensate.

"You know," Neji remarked, "you don't give off the fondest first impression, either. I've noticed from magazines that you don't talk to reporters very often, but I hardly imagined a President's son could get away with being so surly."

This managed to make Gaara chuckle. Insults didn't bother him – he wasn't exactly a prize with the media – but he knew from the tone of Neji's voice that the other man needed payback after the smirking comment. So, with some amusement, he allowed it.

Fine," he said. "If for some ridiculous reason, some great emergency, we happen to have drinks again, I'll be less surly."

"And I won't be pretentious."

"Good."

"Although… "

"What now?" That had seemed like such a perfect point to finish up, shake hands and never see each other again in their lives. Neji had even finally finished his drink.

"It's probably nothing, but I can't help wondering all the same." Neji coolly tilted on his chair like a rebellious schoolkid. He was studying Gaara's face intently, maintaining eye contact with the ease of a formidable expert at social games. "It breaks your rules, but I have to ask: if I were more casual about it, would it really be so terrible to discuss the wedding?"

Gaara's chest felt a little bit tighter, as it always did when he remembered that he was expected to get married in a few months. "Yes. I don't want to think about it."

Shrugging, Neji said, "If you're sure. It's a shame, really. Most people look forward to their weddings and enjoy the planning process, even the grooms, nowadays."

"I can't imagine I fit any portrait of a normal groom," Gaara replied.

Neji considered. "No," he said finally. "You certainly don't."

They stopped the conversation briefly as their waitress approached the table and asked if they required anything further. Thankfully, Neji declined, so the young woman bustled away with their used cups, leaving a receipt even though she chirped, "On the house, of course, Mr Sabaku. Happy to have you." After she left, the two men sat in silence for a while, readying themselves for the goodbye formalities that were coming.

"Well, I suppose we've said everything that needs to be said," commented Neji, starting things off.

"I suppose so."

"Then I'll next see you… on the forbidden day of reckoning. March the thirtieth, isn't it?"

"Something like that," Gaara said. "I'm not keeping it appointed to memory."

"Any idea where you want to have it all?" Neji asked casually.

Gaara narrowed his eyes and pushed his chair out to leave. It squealed loudly against the polished floor, but he ignored the sharp looks he received for it. "That sounds like planning to me."

"Ah well, I had to try." Neji grinned and stood up as well. "Come on, think about it. If you can bring yourself to answer, I'll never bother you again."

He just wouldn't stop pushing the issue, would he? But perhaps because Gaara had exhausted all his argumentative reserves, he didn't walk away yet. For a fleeting second a ghost of an image ran through his head, of a gaudy hotel ballroom covered in white, with a mess of coloured ribbon and tinsel decorating the walls. It made his stomach turn. For him, that image was less a wedding than a nightmare.

"All right," he said, causing Neji's face to light up with interest. "I have something. Whatever location you book, don't let it be a hotel. Especially Tennyson Towers. I don't want that."

Neji nodded, moving slightly back into business mode. "Understood."

This time they did shake hands. Walking back towards the elevator along with a handful of diners who had just paid their bills, Gaara felt less tense and agitated about his morning. He adjusted his collar, loosening it while still keeping it presentable, and he noticed that Neji was mirroring his actions. It wasn't quite jumper-and-track-pants, but it was a start.

"Just for the record," Neji said quietly when they stepped into the elevator, "I'm glad you said no hotels. If I'm going to be organising this without any input from you, I need a strong sense of who you are and what you and Tenten will like. Now, I know Tenten, but you? You're difficult to read, but I expected you wouldn't like something as standard as a hotel, or as obvious as Tennyson Towers. I'm pleased that I was right."

The doors opened at the ground floor and Neji and Gaara alighted, walking with synchronised steps to the exit. Neji rather teasingly watched Gaara head through the revolving door but wisely said nothing about it.

Just as they were about to separate for good, Gaara had one last question. "What was it that told you I wouldn't be the sort to like hotels?"

"An educated guess." Neji's mouth remained straight and polite, but there was an amused smile pulling at the corners of his eyes. "I simply thought about what _I _would want in a wedding."

Perhaps foolishly, Gaara did think he was leaving this encounter behind him and would never hear from Neji again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Oh dear god. So, I moved into a new apartment in February, and am only _now _getting Internet. Like, today. For real. I'm kind of overwhelmed by how much stuff there is to do now, and first things first, new chapters of stories! I don't even want to think about my pile of untouched assignments...**

* * *

Next contact came about two weeks later on an evening in mid-November. After Gaara had waded through the swarm of reporters permanently camped outside his front gates and made it inside the house, he made the uncharacteristic decision to sit on the couch of his own private lounge room and switch on the television. His father had been badgering him all day about his sour expression in public, because, "_nobody looks that depressed when they've got a woman until _after _they're married!_" So now Gaara needed nothing more than to drown out his agitation with some mindless noise.

Despite having two relatives and at least a dozen employees living under the same roof, he didn't have any obligation to turn down the volume. His father wouldn't be leaving the office (which occupied the block of land directly adjacent to the house) for hours, if he came back for sleep at all; diligent older sister Temari had her own suite at the rear of the house, well insulated from everyone else's sounds while she practised speech-writing; and the staff, of course, would never dare to complain.

A small groan escaped Gaara's lips as he realised that once he was married, there would always be someone to insist he turn the volume down.

All the televisions in the house had a default setting of the twenty-four-hour news channel, so when the screen exploded to life there was every chance Gaara would be graced with an unflattering story about his family. It shouldn't have surprised him to see Tenten's photo appear before him, yet it still managed to catch him off guard.

"… _responding to claims on The Nicolette Donald Show that her engagement to President Sabaku's son is a little too convenient,_" the voiceover said ominously as Tenten gestured about in front of the camera.

Gaara frowned. That sounded less like a puff piece at the end of the news than an accusation of fraud. He knew journalists weren't stupid, but they surely didn't have any reason to be suspicious of the wedding yet. After all, no money was changing hands; there was no way for their family businesses to merge and exploit people somehow. There was no reason to question it more than any other wedding that appeared on the A-list. Surely they couldn't have figured out that the only point of the marriage was to arouse empathy with the President.

The news report was now giving the audio of Tenten's talk show interview.

"Of course I get that it looks really neat and tidy," she was answering pleasantly. She sat on a maroon, plush couch in a regal pose, legs tilted and hands clasped on her knees. "But I suppose when you're the one in the relationship, _everything _about it feels neat and tidy, you know? Plus there's always going to be some element of convenience when you meet someone: you go to the same bar, the same school, have the same friends … for me and Gaara, we just happened to have fathers who knew each other, so things fell into place. All the politics and business was definitely secondary. Besides, my old dad's retiring – why would he care how my personal life affects the hotels? He's more worried about whether his precious baby girl's in safe hands."

Clever, Gaara mused, how Tenten was surreptitiously trying to change the subject from the wedding to her father's retirement. Any good reporter would have taken the bait, but not a vapid celebrity interviewer like Nicolette Donald.

"And _are _you in safe hands?" Donald pressed. "Not to be rude, but … Gaara Sabaku doesn't, like, put his best foot forward in public. How is he in private?"

A chorus of 'Ooooh' came from the on-screen audience, and Tenten gave a girly laugh that she seemed to reserve for interviews. "Oh, Nicolette, if you only knew. He's really shy; he says that ever since his older brother moved out of home he's become more and more introverted. So sometimes he reacts a bit badly when he gets lots of attention, but when he's in his element he's _so _sweet and kind. You've heard that he's planning the whole wedding without me, right? I'm just _so _swamped, what with Dad …"

Her voice faded out as the newsreader's took over again, moving on to the next celebrity story. At the exact same time, Gaara was surprised to feel a vibration coming from his trouser pocket: he knew it was his phone buzzing to life, but aside from the rare occasions his father wanted to harass him, he didn't get calls. Few people outside of the family even had his number.

He pulled the phone out and checked the number of the caller. It wasn't familiar.

Pressing 'decline' (because he never accepted strangers' calls; one time he did, and a simple misdial turned into his voice being broadcast on national radio), he quickly searched for any called or message history with that number. He puzzled for a moment as he found a single, outgoing call from about a month ago. That was unusual.

In his hands, the phone buzzed again, with an SMS this time.

**You didn't seem like the type to watch news about yourself, but in case you caught ****Ni****colette**** Donald****, did you and Tenten prepare that spiel together? Or was it all her idea? – Neji Hyuuga.**

Gaara raised his eyebrows. The wedding planner, contacting him for a chat? Well, perhaps developing some sort of friendly rapport was a normal part of the planner-client relationship. Neji would certainly know better than he would. That said, he wasn't interested in making any new friends, so he didn't reply to the message.

However, twenty minutes later came another unbidden buzz: **It ****was**** a spiel, wasn't it? – Neji Hyuuga.**

That sounded like he was afraid he'd accidentally insulted Gaara, with which Gaara was perfectly content, but he also wanted to stay the flow of texts. Reluctantly, his fingers tapped out a short response.

**It was. And it was just hers.**

He expected this message to convey the opinion he held of idle conversation, so he wasn't waiting for another in return. Nevertheless, the floodgate opened: two more texts, almost simultaneous, arrived in half the time it would have taken Gaara to write them.

**She's extremely convincing. – Neji Hyuuga.**

**Are you sure this wedding is entirely political? – Neji Hyuuga.**

Grumbling, "Honestly," under his breath, Gaara hurled the phone across the room with so much force that his arm twinged slightly, and he watched it sail into a painting on the wall opposite him. Luckily it didn't crack the glass, or his father would have had a word with him – not for the first time – about destruction of property. But that wasn't really at the forefront of his mind at the moment; all he was thinking was that whatever he thought of Neji, he wasn't going to pore over Tenten's emotions to maintain cordiality with him. For one thing, Gaara _knew _Tenten didn't see him in any romantic light. For another, friend or not, wedding planner or not, it was none of Neji's business.

The phone lay mercifully quiet on the floor as if guilty for the trouble it had caused. Perhaps Neji was somehow aware that he had annoyed Gaara. The television now a woefully inadequate distraction from his problems, Gaara let himself collapse prone on the couch, staring with glazed eyes at the ceiling. He attempted to keep his thoughts blurry, but they burst forth with uncomfortable clarity.

_Tenten's created a character for me. If I ever have to be interviewed, I'll need to stick to that._

It wasn't a pleasant thought. The whole reason that the Sabaku and Tennyson families had fervently agreed that only Tenten should accept offers of publicity was that Gaara was no good at it. But it was impossible to avoid it altogether: even just arriving home today the reporters outside had a barrage of questions for him. He'd responded, "Ask _her_," but he would have to learn to do better if they were already suspicious that the wedding was a sham.

_I'll have to smile on the actual day. That will take some practice._

Gaara's eyes began to get drowsy, but even when they closed, the disturbing pictures still formed in his brain. He saw himself in a tuxedo and Tenten in a voluptuous white gown, fake smiles on their faces as they posed for a thousand photographers. He heard himself robotically uttering some traditional nonsense he only knew from movies, like, "I promise to love you, cherish you, be faithful to you …"

They hadn't discussed faithfulness with each other. They hadn't discussed any of their realistic expectations of marriage, and it wasn't a conversation Gaara looked forward to. Tenten probably didn't even know he was gay. Wouldn't it be an amusing twist of fate if she turned out to be a lesbian? It would certainly be irrefutable evidence against Neji's apparent belief that she truly had feelings for him.

Gaara didn't notice himself fall asleep, but the next thing he knew, he was being jerked awake by something cold shaking against his arm. Shooting up, he looked around wildly and saw that the cold object was his phone, on the couch with him instead of the floor, and there was a flurry of movement by the door.

"Temari?" Gaara said, voice gravelly from sleep.

His sister froze mid-escape, turning to give him a brief smile. "Hey. I heard the TV in here and just came in to check. Sorry for waking you."

"What time is it?"

"Not late at all. Not even nine."

Despite this, Temari looked tired. Gaara was aware that their father was running her ragged as she essentially understudied for him, and it showed in the deep shadows under her eyes and the frazzled way her blonde hair stuck out. Her fingernails were bitten as short as they could go and there were streaks of ink on one hand where her pen must have slipped in her exhaustion.

Gaara's phone vibrated persistently, and Temari explained, "It was ringing when I came in. I thought you must have … dropped it."

She knew enough about him to know that he'd thrown it after a bad correspondence, which was probably why she didn't insist that he answer it right away. It was a call this time, Gaara could see, still from Neji. He made a face.

"Is it Tenten?" Temari asked sympathetically.

Gaara shook his head. "Her friend, the wedding planner I met a while back."

"A _wedding planner?_ You mean you actually are putting together this thing by yourself? I assumed that news piece was full of crap!"

"It was," Gaara said. He watched the phone until its buzzing died out and the screen flashed the words MISSED CALL. "I told him to take care of everything and not contact me at all until the day of the wedding, unless there's an emergency."

To his surprise, Temari laughed. All the sleepiness in her eyes vanished. "Gaara!"

"What?" he said suspiciously.

"Oh, come on, Gaara! You've been to weddings before. You watch movies. Do you _know _what qualifies as an emergency to those people?"

"No."

"It's everything. _Everything_." Temari gestured with her arms to make her point. "Seating arrangements, centrepieces, table runners, bonbonniere, even the stupid stamp you put on the invitation envelopes! Do you even know what half those things are? Because I guarantee this wedding planner must be going crazy not having your opinion on any of it. You say he's Tenten's friend? He probably wants to put on a really special show for her."

Taken aback, Gaara waited for a few extra seconds after Temari had stopped talking just to make sure she was finished. "Tenten doesn't care about the wedding."

"But this guy …"

"Neji."

"Right. Neji cares about weddings, and he cares about Tenten. So maybe he wants to show her what he feels by creating a wedding you'll both love. Throw him a bone."

Gaara knew what Temari was insinuating. First Neji was thinking that Tenten secretly loved Gaara, and now Temari believed that Neji loved Tenten. People were needlessly complicating things. However, of all people, Temari was the only one who had any real influence on how Gaara behaved, because he respected her effort and ambition. He muttered, "Fine. I'll pick up the phone next time. But I'm not getting dragged into anything ridiculous."

That was enough to satisfy Temari, who nodded and turned to leave. "You should call someone to get you something to eat."

"I will. One more thing."

"Hmm?"

"You appear to know a lot about weddings."

"I'm just that intelligent."

"Why? Are you planning to have one?"

She flushed darker than Gaara's tattoo and exclaimed, "No!" She tried to sound furious, but her voice came out a little too high for it.

"That sounds like a lie," Gaara observed. Temari shook her head vigorously.

"No, no, it really wasn't. I'm _not _planning a wedding. I'm not. It's just Dad, being a prick as usual – telling me my business skills are only sub-par so I should find some nice, young _man _to carry the burden for me. Ugh, I could kill him!"

"So there is a man?"

"Barely." Temari snorted. "He's so much younger than me it's embarrassing. Dad actually sent out a car for him yesterday so he could come and be impressed by the house. Fat chance: the knucklehead didn't look at anything! Hardly said a word, then just walked out when he got bored. The only good thing I can say is at least he's not after me for my money. He's not after me at all."

For some reason, speaking with Temari like this was far more comfortable than when weddings were the subject. There was something strange about picturing her as a woman interested in romance, something wrong, but hearing her rant aggressively about men who bothered her felt more natural. Perhaps that was normal for brothers and sisters. If he ever spoke to Kankuro again, he'd have to ask if he felt the same.

After a little more venting, and another gentle nudge for Gaara to call Neji, Temari finally returned to her own wing of the house. Gaara waited almost another hour before actually picking up his phone.

* * *

The next day, Gaara found himself for a second time rigidly counting down the minutes until Neji was supposed to meet him in their appointed place – this time in a delicate part of the city that qualified as somewhere between suburban and rural, where more of the land was forest than housing. There was a national park somewhere nearby. Gaara was already bothered by the meeting spot since it was almost ninety minutes away, even with a driver who knew all the short cuts, and also by the fact that he had no idea what the meeting was about. All Neji had said on the phone was, "Some things require a bit more authority than just a wedding coordinator."

Some document needed a signature, Gaara assumed. He'd already been forced to sign once or twice on a Declaration of Intended Marriage, so he supposed he should have expected this. But why the remote location?

Like last time, Gaara considered leaving, and like last time, Neji arrived just early enough not to be considered late. Four o' clock was the prearranged meeting time and four o' clock and fifty seconds was when he appeared. His lips curved up into a smile when he spotted Gaara.

"Good to see you again," he greeted. Gaara just shrugged, which may have been a little churlish, but so be it. Neji continued pleasantly, "Thank you for making the effort to come all this way. It's not Tennyson Towers, but hopefully you don't feel out of your element here."

"Why _are _we here?" Gaara asked.

"I was in the area."

"I wasn't."

"But now you are. So we might as well take advantage of it, mightn't we?"

It was now quite clear that Neji's smile reached his eyes, meaning that something had him in genuinely good spirits, beyond the jovial requirements of his job. This made Gaara suspicious.

"This _is _necessary, my being here?"

"Of course." Neji nodded earnestly. "It couldn't be done without you. Walk with me."

Hardly alleviating his suspicion, this only made Gaara more wary. Alarm bells were going off in his head; Neji was trying to worm him into the wedding, and it was no accident. Still, he kept his mouth shut, trying to reserve judgement for as long as possible. 'Throw him a bone', as Temari said.

Frowning, Gaara realised he was being led by Neji into the neighbouring national park. People seldom visited because it had an exorbitant government-sanctioned entry fee, but when the old woman attentively guarding the gate saw them, she gave Neji a devilish grin and opened the gate for them for free. Evidently Neji had been here before, and must have made quite an impression. He and Gaara continued to walk in silence. The place was pleasant enough, and quiet, which Gaara liked, but there still didn't seem to be any reason for them to be here. When Neji stopped, there was no reason for that, either.

"Well?" Neji said expectantly.

"What?"

"I was curious to know your opinion of it."

Gaara knew better than to believe 'it' referred to the park in general. There was something more specific that he was supposed to be appraising. He surreptitiously looked around, moving his eyes but not his head, and when he spotted it he couldn't believe he hadn't earlier: there was a wall, a gleaming tower of a wall, just twenty feet or so in front of him. The wall was, of course, a single side of a much broader building, filling an entire clearing. It wasn't completely obtuse of him not to have noticed it, because unlike any other building he had ever seen, its exterior was coated entirely in reflective glass.

It was really quite remarkable how deceiving the wall of mirrors was. Each panel – for Gaara could see now that it was made of several small panels – was even angled so he wasn't just looking at his own reflection. Instead, the natural greens and tans of the park only seemed to expand further in every direction.

Noticing that Neji was still waiting for his response, Gaara murmured, "I've certainly never seen anything like it before."

That appeared to be the right answer. "Funny you should say that," Neji said, amused. "Very few people, save the park employees, are aware of its existence. Possibly the one place left in the world about which that can be said. There's tree cover overhead, so even Google satellites can't get a glimpse. Even better, supposedly nobody's ever been inside."

Gaara gave him a look. "That's impossible. Someone had to build it."

"True enough. As far as I'm aware, though, nobody's been inside since its completion. It was intended to be an observation hall for an ethological study on wild animals' reactions to mirrors, but they lost funding, couldn't continue, and sold the building. The new owners were interesting types – come around the other side."

Gaara wanted to refuse, but Neji was oddly determined to be here, fixated on his plan. It was obvious what that plan was: use this secluded, peculiar location to throw Gaara headfirst into a girlish tizzy of wedding excitement. This abandoned lab was to be his venue, and he was to be pleased about that. It wasn't a _good_ plan, by any means, but it was the only explanation.

Everything about Neji's prim confidence said, "I'm positive that once you do what I say, you'll have no choice but to admit I was right." Well, Gaara wasn't in the habit of admitting others were right; however, Temari's sharp, sisterly voice rang through his thoughts, compelling him to stay polite.

Heading around where Neji instructed, he came to a set of four steps leading to what must have been a door, though it was indistinguishable from the mirrored walls. The steps were dark with dirt, but beneath it, in crisp white paint, were the words _Templum Speculorum._

"The owners turned it into a temple?" Gaara wrinkled his nose at the words.

"You know Latin," Neji said approvingly.

Gaara didn't reply. He didn't know Latin at all, but it wasn't that hard to translate 'templum' as 'temple'.

Neji came up the steps and pushed on the door to enter. Gaara followed, uninterested, staring more at Neji's waist-length hair than at the surroundings. It was tied back firmly, like last time they had met, the ends falling neatly against his lower back as he moved. Like everything else about Neji, it spoke of order and control. For the first time in years, Gaara felt self-conscious about his own hair, which was passable but certainly not immaculate.

"It wasn't really a temple," Neji explained. "The owners were amusement park workers trying to break out on their own. I haven't heard the full story, but I assume they wanted to make this their starting point, as a funhouse, or something like that. The ethologists sold it for an absurdly low price and didn't mention that it's illegal here to run a business on national parkland." He sounded strangely amused about it.

"You don't seem to be on the buyers' side in this story."

"I'm not on the side of anyone who doesn't do their research. If you can't follow legalities, you certainly shouldn't start a business."

So he was unsympathetic and had a mind like a lawyer. On paper he was an obvious choice as wedding planner for a politician's son. In reality, it caused Gaara to tighten his lips and turn his gaze from Neji back to the building's interior. This was less impressive than the outside, as all the mirrors were one-way glass; instead of discombobulating reflections, there was just a clear view of the trees outside. The room itself was utterly bare, spotless, carpetless and furnitureless, apart from a few large sheets of glass that looked as though the builders had started making a card house out of them.

"Looks like construction wasn't quite completed," Gaara commented, inclining his head towards the loose glass.

Neji frowned and approached them, examining, walking around and between them. He rapped his knuckles against one. Unlike every other noise being made, this did not echo.

"How interesting," he said, and he sounded like he meant it. "It seems more reinforced than the rest of the building. Probably soundproof. Maybe the ethologists planned to sit inside them, to make absolutely sure the animals wouldn't hear them."

"How very cautious."

"Actually, this could work very well for our purpose …"

"Really?" Gaara interjected. "I wasn't under the impression that _we _had any kind of joint purpose at all. I'm not stupid; I know this is about the wedding. We agreed I would have no input."

Why was Neji smiling?

"Mr Sabaku –"

"Don't call me that."

"I'm not stupid either. You're right: I do want to use this place for the wedding. But if it were just a matter of hiring out some room and arguing fees, I wouldn't have batted an eyelid about not informing you. I'm a little more ambitious than that."

Gaara eyed him suspiciously. "How so?"

Folding his arms, his expression snapping back to serious, Neji looked suddenly more like a businessman than a wedding planner. His eyes glinted with intelligence and his movements became sharp. "To do this job properly, I need you to buy this property. I assume money is no object."

"_Buy _it?" Gaara almost laughed in disbelief. "What could that possibly – you know what, I don't care. No."

"You haven't heard me out."

"I don't want to."

"Look," Neji said impatiently. "You don't care about the wedding. You've been more than candid about that. But you know who does care?"

Remembering his conversation with Temari, Gaara answered, "Tenten."

"Of course not Tenten! You think I'd have asked _you _here today if it was Tenten? I'm talking about myself."

"Oh."

Neji waved his arm in theatrical frustration. "I've got a good reputation and regardless of whether or not you're interested in the process, I am not half-assing it and having this one event as a blight on my record. I take this as seriously as it's possible to take anything. If your wedding day isn't about you, and it isn't about the bride, there are three other people about whom it could be. The first is the coordinator. Obviously that's my preference. The second is the dress designer, and I'll be damned if I get upstaged by a glorified seamstress. The third …"

He paused.

"The third?" Gaara prompted.

"The most obvious. Your father."

They looked each other dead in the eye. That one actually struck Gaara with abrupt new understanding. For all intents and purposes, the wedding _was _about his father, endearing him as a loving parent to the public. It was an act to make the old man look good, and Gaara was the cheapest actor he could force into it. It was true, but that didn't mean Gaara had to make it _look _true.

"I see what you mean," he admitted to Neji. "My father is already possibly the most publicised, advertised, self-involved man in the world. This will be the one day where I get to choose who the centre of attention is, and I'd have to be either incredibly devoted or incredibly idiotic to choose him. I'm neither."

Neji looked pleased. "I'm glad you understand the opportunity you have."

"But that doesn't mean I should automatically give it to you."

Gaara watched carefully as Neji's expression tightened, but he didn't lose his composure. It was clear now exactly how great a career move this wedding was for him, and he wanted it. And Gaara suspected that Neji was the kind of person who tore down any obstacle – object, man, woman or child – to get what he wanted.

"Go on," Neji said stiffly.

"Well," said Gaara, "unless you can offer me a reason why I should endorse you when I think you're on the same level as the glorified seamstress, I might pick her instead. Or the caterer. The photographer. I'm sure there will be many skilled professionals there."

Indignation flashed across Neji's face. "I should hope so, since it's my job to choose them. But I guarantee you that I deserve it more."

"Why do you want this wedding so much?"

"I don't have to answer that," Neji replied testily.

"It's not just the publicity for you. You're already number one in the country. It's not that you're trying to impress Tenten. What is it?"

"There are plenty of good reasons to apply yourself to your business."

He wasn't giving anything away, but Gaara was fairly certain he had touched a nerve, similar to when he'd questioned Neji's sexuality. Neji had almost unconsciously begun pacing around the empty room, an obvious sign of irritation, though he seemed to be trying to keep that emotion off his face. Gaara liked wheedling into him like this: he didn't actually plan on throwing all the publicity on the wedding dress designer, but threatening to do so was fun. It had been a while since he'd had fun.

When Neji's pacing took him past Gaara towards the door, Gaara thought he was going to storm out, but he stopped just short of it. Eventually he stated plainly, "I do have my own personal reasons for wanting the biggest wedding of my career – of _anyone's _career – to go perfectly. That should be no surprise. But …" He paused, searching for words. "I can't do things properly if you're going to be uncooperative."

Gaara frowned. "I'm uncooperative. Because I don't want to buy an abandoned building on your orders."

"Partly, but I'm talking about your lack of interest in general. Do you think anyone's going to notice the wedding if the bride and groom are scowling through the whole thing like it comes with a bad smell? Now, Tenten can act. She's proven that she can summon up enough enthusiasm to convince people she's happy, but you … I've been watching videos of you talking to the media in the past, and you look and sound perpetually unimpressed."

"So what, you want me to take acting lessons?" Gaara snapped.

"Actually, I felt I had a better chance getting you to be legitimately impressed with my work. People usually are. I was hoping that bringing you here would pique your interest."

Gaara couldn't decide on an appropriate mix of curiosity and annoyance. How had this turned into an attack on him? And what exactly did Neji intend to do to rope him in? "All right. Here's your chance, then. Pique my interest."

He expected hesitation at being put on the spot, but Neji spoke readily. "You said you didn't want the wedding at Tennyson Towers or any other hotel. Why was that?"

"Because the idea of it was repugnant."

"And why?"

"I don't know," Gaara said irritably.

"Then I'll tell you why. I said that I understood perfectly, and I do. Tennyson Towers would embody the fakeness of the whole event. It's what everyone would expect and approve of, but your only connection to it isn't real. Like everything else, it wouldn't be about you, and it would barely even be about Tenten, just the horde of faceless political commentators bound to be dogging your steps. You don't want to have every aspect of your life controlled by them, so you hate the idea of a Tennyson Tower wedding.

"Fine; it won't be held there. Nor in any other hotel, because then people would only ask why you _didn't _choose Tennyson, and it would also be a bit too standard for you. Hotel weddings all look fine, but they all look the same. They offer similar food, furniture, linen – in fact, I know personally that the three highest-rated hotels in the city all use the same DJ. Hotels often feel enclosed and trapping, especially when you consider the fact that all the guests would be spending the night. The wedding wouldn't even be over until the next afternoon when they all finally left. I imagine you'll want it over as quickly as possible.

"So where? A restaurant isn't prestigious enough. A boat isn't customisable, nor is there anywhere to escape. You need a blank slate to be designed exclusively for you, an option to leave if you need to, and a place where the commentators are kept at bay. Let's say hypothetically that you buy this building, the _templum speculorum. _It's certainly a blank slate, unique as a place can be, big enough to comfortably fit about two hundred and fifty people. Guests can see out, but unwanted spectators can't see in. And let's not forget the added bonus – these soundproof glass panes. You could turn them into walls around your table alone – you and Tenten would have your own dining table, in front of the guest tables – and call them bulletproof. Say you need them for protection, but really they'll be shutting out all the unwanted noise from other people. And brides usually spend most of the reception circulating, greeting people, so you'll have total privacy. It's perfect. And I hope you see, you _do _care about your wedding. You just didn't realise it would mean as much as it does."

When Neji finished, Gaara was stunned into silence. He hadn't expected such a voluminous speech, practically an essay, so he couldn't form an adequate response. Neji had really applied himself since their first meeting; he had thought through every last detail in his attempt to turn this thing that Gaara hated into something he'd enjoy.

And Gaara had been throwing it back in his face. He certainly felt good now.

"Impressed yet?" asked Neji, folding his arms.

"Somewhat." Gaara reluctantly nodded. "You obviously read people well."

"Not everyone, and you're especially difficult sometimes, but thank you."

"Since I'm such a terrible actor, maybe it's getting easier. There is one thing you didn't explain, though: why do you insist I purchase the place instead of hiring it?"

Neji smiled, and there was something almost mischievous in his eyes. It seemed to say that whatever the answer was, it was not within the realm of normal wedding planning. "There are some things you can only do to a property you own."

"I take it you don't mean renovating."

"I don't. More like … de-renovating."

Gaara gave a start. "You want to demolish it?"

He looked around the enormous room again, and suddenly it seemed more fragile than before. He pictured all the glass panels shattering into glittering pieces, more than could be counted, lying on the forest floor like a gleaming trap. The image came to mind very easily.

"The only thing that can ruin a unique location," Neji explained, "is if it becomes less unique. As a celebrity –" (Gaara rolled his eyes.) " – your choices are bound to be copied. If we can avoid it, though …"

"It would reflect better on your ingenuity to have it be one-of-a-kind."

"And the less it's repeated, the sooner it goes away. So it would suit both of us if a little de-renovation took place after the event."

It was an intriguing idea. If Gaara couldn't have a wedding that was one hundred per cent his own, he could at least make it nobody else's.

"All right," he said. "You've got me. I want to see if you can really make me enjoy a sham wedding. I'll get the money to you as soon as possible."

Neji's face shone with anticipation. "You won't regret it. I'll keep in touch – ah, but I can't help but correct what you just said."

"What?"

"You called this a sham wedding. I've done this for a long time now, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that while there are plenty of sham marriages, there's no such thing as a sham wedding."

Gaara was sceptical, but said nothing as he moved to exit the building. Somehow, he sensed that Neji was smirking at him.

"Don't hit the door on your way out."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: So I just spent a month on holiday in America, and came back with the entire Death Note series. I get that Australia is expensive, but... damn, that was some cheap manga! Also, about this chapter, I know nothing about flowers. Anything I say here, I got off various websites. Mostly Wikipedia, but there were some others, so I hope it's at least halfway accurate. Enjoy!**

* * *

Things changed after that day. Gaara's phone buzzed several times a day with questions that seemed inane, but to Neji must have been of vital importance. Gaara only gave one-word replies, but he answered every single one, which was enough to persuade Temari that he was playing nice.

One day he took the time to search Neji's name online, so he could find out exactly what he'd gotten himself into, and it revealed a lot more than he expected. Nothing strange or surprising – just _more. _There were pages upon pages of photographs, interviews and forums of women gushing about his work. Perhaps the most memorable site was Helpmegetneji[.com], where a twenty-five-year-old was selling all her belongings so that she could afford to hire him for her wedding, even though she wasn't even engaged yet.

"_In the Yang/Jacobs wedding, there were four ice sculptures, and I was hoping to find someone who could make a knockoff for me? I can't afford Neji Hyuuga's sculptor!" _one forum message read.

"_How far in advance should you book your coordinator? Well, if it's a Hyuuga, about ten years," _read another.

"_It's true, I worked in that lab: he actually got us to genetically engineer the spiders that produced navy blue silk for the dress!"_

"_Any tips for getting straight through to him instead of getting stuck with his secretary?"_

"_Can't I skip all the other stuff and just marry __him__?"_

It was a bombardment of insanity, but it served its purpose. It showed that the public was enamoured with him, that his work was without equal, and that he was considered completely untouchable. You had to be worth several million dollars to get a five-minute phone call with him, and while he was always ready to have his picture taken for a bridal magazine, or to get interviewed on specialist TV shows, he never gave too much away about himself. As far as a biography went, Gaara couldn't find much more than a birthday and a few relatives who happened to have their own wedding planning business. It wasn't even mentioned anywhere that he and Tenten were old friends.

Speaking of Tenten, a good many of the women in cyberspace were not impressed with her for being removed from her own wedding. Many comments on the issue were some variation of, _"That bitch got Neji Hyuuga and she doesn't even care?!" _Conversely, a few praised her as a modern woman who wasn't letting marriage change her. Even fewer were angry again, but this time for getting trapped in the anti-feminist institution at all.

Gaara himself, he was surprised to find, was gaining popularity. Regardless of what the commenters thought of Tenten, they seemed to think of him as some kind of hero for women's rights.

His father must have been pleased.

As December arrived, the messages that Neji sent him became less formal. He signed them simply as 'N' instead of his full name, and they included personal comments:

**I've been in contact with a team of interior and set designers. They want to meet you, of course, but I suspect you will hate them. – N**

**Still eagerly anticipating a guest list. Don't tell me you have no friends. – N**

**Fucking Christmas. Try organising a colour scheme when all that's in stores is red, green and gold. – N**

Actually, some of them were quite enjoyable to read, particularly the ones that weren't trying to wring information out of him like he was a wet cloth. It was amusing to picture this perfect, polished man walking around in public, pretending to be calm, but secretly fuming enough to swear about holiday colours. When these messages came, Gaara sent back longer replies. By Christmas Eve, although no wedding plans apart from the venue had been fully confirmed, he reached his phone's texting limit for the first time in his life.

The Sabaku family had never been big celebrators of the public holidays, which should have been no surprise to anyone, but Temari always left a small token present on everyone's bed. It normally took their father several days to notice, and of course Kankuro hadn't been home in years; still, it was a gesture that reminded Gaara that they weren't completely broken. His present sat in front of him, only a few cubic inches in size, ready to be opened late like the other ones in the house. There was only a brief scribble of note paper attached as a card. Tomorrow, Christmas Day, he and Temari probably wouldn't even see each other.

On the spur of the moment, Gaara wondered if he should buy his family some gifts as well. Not his father of course, but apart from him. And getting something for Kankuro would just be a waste; why Temari still did it was a mystery. So, one gift. Brother to sister. She might appreciate it.

Half an hour later, in the middle of the afternoon, he found himself stepping out of his car with a nod to the chauffeur and entering a high-end shopping arcade. It was packed beyond recognition (not that he had been shopping himself in recent memory) with frazzled customers who had left getting gifts to the last minute, and the sight of it almost made Gaara want to turn around and get out before he started. But he pressed on, squeezing between the hundreds of agitated bodies, violating several of his own personal space rules. He didn't know where he was going; the flow of the crowd was directing him.

He extricated himself long enough to enter a shop that sold perfumes, soaps and other scented things. They smelled more like poison than something to be enjoyed, but he looked around the shelves for something that seemed appropriate to give to a sister.

"Is that who I think it is?"

"Who?"

"Right there, right next to me!"

Despite crowd noise, Gaara could hear this conversation going on behind his back. A sidelong glance told him it was a woman of about forty talking to her unenthusiastic-looking male partner. She was goggling at Gaara with eager, wide eyes and reaching absently at a display of candles that was a good ten inches away from her hand. As she began mouthing his name, Gaara hunched his shoulders to make himself look as small as possible to slip away. The paparazzi he could ignore, but he had never quite gotten the hang of being recognised by strangers in the street, so his instinct was usually to just get out.

As he left the shop, he told himself that Temari probably wasn't the candles-and-soaps type anyway. In that case, what was she? It was a bit odd that he couldn't call to mind a single hobby or indulgence of his own sister, but instead had to rely on broad stereotypes. Everywhere above his head were banners and posters emblazoned with gift ideas, but they were all unimpressive. To hell with it – he'd just get her a pen or something. She wrote, so she must have needed pens.

Unfortunately, even that proved to be an inhumanly hard task. Ordinary stores like newsagencies were already closed for the holidays, so Gaara had to search every open place that advertised itself as having 'miscellaneous presents'. Pens, apparently, were not popular this year. Solar-powered smartphone chargers were.

"Gaara! Gaara!" a voice squealed happily. "One word, can I just have one word?"

After finally acquiring Temari's gift, Gaara's plan was to get out immediately, but he froze at the sound of the unfamiliar female voice. A woman was shoving her way through the crowd to get to him; whether it was the same one as from the scented store, he couldn't say. She could have even been a reporter. He tried to move sideways along the shop fronts to elude her, but she was determined and reached him almost immediately.

"Well, I never … I never thought ..." she said breathlessly, seizing his hand and shaking it up and down. "I've never met a celebrity before! I can't wait to tell my daughter. She's a big fan of you – or was it Temari? You know, now that I'm on the spot I can't quite remember. Oh, I don't suppose you could ask your dad to do something about electricity prices?"

"I don't think it works that way," Gaara muttered, wanting to pull his hand away.

"Right, of course, of course. Even so, if it ever comes up … oooh, is that for Tenten?"

She had spotted the gift in his other hand. Suddenly wishing he had spared the five extra minutes it would have taken to get it wrapped, Gaara wasn't sure whether the truth or a lie would draw more criticism: a pen wasn't much of a present for a future wife, but then neither was no present at all. Eventually, he said, "No."

The woman nodded fervently. "I'll bet you've got something amazing lined up, don't you? You know, a bride-to-be has higher expectations from her man than any other girl on Earth! Do you know what my worthless ex got me for our first Christmas? He can't have spent more than ten dollars …"

As she prattled on, Gaara did little to stop his attention waning, until eventually he was just nodding at any point that she took a breath. He was more interested in the issue she had inadvertently brought up: was Tenten expecting a present from him? He didn't have a clue what her views were on holidays, but considering how low his own expectations were, it was quite probable that hers would be higher. Even more troubling, if everyone thought the same way as this woman did, how long would it take for the paparazzi to comment if he didn't get her something? It wouldn't make the national news, but it might raise a few unimpressed eyebrows.

So it appeared to Gaara as though getting her a present would be in everyone's best interest. Finally able to wave off the middle-aged woman (who was still in the middle of saying, "And take her on a Mauritius honeymoon! That was my dream, but guess where Derek took me ...") he began another search for appropriate sort-of-fiancée gifts.

_Flowers, _he thought. _Flowers can mean anything. She'll know I'm just being polite, but everyone else will think it's romantic._

He managed to make his way, unintercepted this time, to the centre of the arcade, where a large store map stood upright. A quick scan of the legend showed six flower shops in this building. Six. Almost all of them with stupid names like _A Bloom with a View _or _Mother Rose Best_. Not seeing any difference between them, he went with the closest and most sensible-sounding: _Yamanaka Flowers_. There was no nonsense in a name like that.

He had to go up one escalator to get there, and although the second floor was just as crowded as the first, as soon as he entered and the door swung shut behind him, all external noise was cut out completely, replaced by the shop's own audio track of ambient music. A small bell pealed over his head to alert the owner, who wasn't at the counter, to his presence. Within two seconds, the face of a young, blonde woman popped out from behind a curtain that must have led to the back of the store.

"Hi there! Welcome to _Yamanaka Flowers_, winner of the National Floristry Competition three years running," she said buoyantly. "My name's Ino, and I'll be happy to assist you in a moment. I've just got a very important client back here with me right now. Feel free to have a look around while you wait!" And she disappeared again.

Frowning, Gaara did as he was bidden since there was nothing better to occupy him. Surveying the room, he saw that two long benches ran parallel in the middle of the floor, covered in dozens, possibly hundreds, of vases containing just three flowers each. They seemed to be colour-coded, purples running beside pinks, beside whites, and it went on. The walls weren't bare, either: there were endless plastic containers of flowers hanging from them, and on closer inspection, they were alphabetically labelled.

_ACACIA – SECRET LOVE._

_ALOE – GRIEF._

_ALSTROEMERIA – ASPIRATION._

_AMARYLLIS – DRAMATIC, PRIDE._

There was a light fragrance in the air, but strangely, it wasn't emanating from any of the flowers. They seemed scentless.

He heard the young woman, Ino, laugh shrilly before emerging from behind the curtain with a companion, presumably the customer she'd mentioned. Gaara found himself taken aback upon recognising the person.

"Well, this is a surprise," said Neji. "I had no idea flowers were an interest of yours."

He did indeed look as if he'd been as surprised to see Gaara as Gaara was to see him. For the briefest second his eyebrows had shot up before returning to normal, and then he smiled that small, knowing smile of his. Despite all their messages to one another, Gaara found his speech slightly strangled. He found it difficult to apply the same friendliness in real life, so he just answered, "I'm not here for myself."

Ino blinked. "You guys know each – oh!" Her eyes went round. "Gaara Sabaku! I knew I recognised you from somewhere, but I didn't think … and Neji, you're on his wedding, aren't you? Does that mean –"

"You will be, too," Neji assured.

"The Tennyson-Sabaku wedding," Ino said wistfully. "That's one for the résumé."

"Be that as it may, I doubt that's why he's here. We haven't even begun discussing flowers yet."

Gaara gave an uneasy nod, Ino's dominating presence (and Neji's presence in general) making him slightly uncomfortable. Maybe he should have gone to _Mother Rose Best_. "I need to buy some flowers as a Christmas present. For Tenten."

As Neji repeated, "For Tenten?" Ino simultaneously said, "Excellent," and her face split into a wide grin. Giving Neji a wait-here-for-a-moment gesture, she bustled herself over to the nearest bench and began plucking flowers of many colours from vases all over the place, gathering them in her hands at a speed so remarkable that it was like she had been planning this moment for years. She was grabbing them so voraciously, sometimes right by the petals, that Gaara frowned. Surely a florist should have taken more care of her product.

"Ino?" Neji said patiently. He seemed to catch Gaara's displeased expression. "I think he was after something a little simpler, not a practice bridal bouquet. Say, only a dozen. Is that right?" he asked Gaara.

Gaara was about to say what he had actually been thinking, but upon consideration he realised that he did agree. "Close enough."

"Well … all right, then." Ino didn't lose much of her brightness. "What's her favourite flower?"

"Primrose," Neji said automatically, saving Gaara some embarrassment.

"Oooh, lovely. 'Eternal love'. You can't ask for nicer than that."

Going over to the 'P' section of the wall, Ino wondered aloud what colour might best suit Tenten's personality, but Gaara wasn't paying attention. He mouthed to Neji, _"'Eternal love'?" _He hadn't considered before walking into the shop that the flowers could have symbolic meanings. What if primroses gave Tenten the wrong impression about his feelings towards her? Anyone else might consider this a minor problem compared to the wedding, but to him it was a big issue. As long as he and Tenten were clear about their lack of relationship with one another it was fine, but could something as innocuous as primroses ruin it?

Trying to silently convey all this to Neji was no mean feat, but the other was extremely quick on the uptake today. With the smallest of nods to Gaara, he called out, "Actually, Ino, I seem to have mixed things up. Tenten's favourite is the blue columbine, not primrose."

"Columbine?" Ino repeated, freezing in the act of reaching towards a flower container. "Well, that's … I mean, it's beautiful too, and … okay! A dozen blue columbines. No problem. Do you want them to-go or delivered? There's a Christmas surcharge, of course, but if you pick delivery we can keep them frozen for as long as possible so they stay in good condition."

"Delivered," said Gaara. He had no intention of giving them to Tenten in person.

He had to search his wallet to find a card with Tenten's home address written on it, which probably seemed horrifically uninformed for a fiancé, but Ino didn't appear to judge him as she took it and bounced out to the back to fill in some paperwork. Now that they were alone, the air between Gaara and Neji felt thick with awkwardness despite the fact that Neji was still smiling pleasantly. Gaara wasn't sure why this made him uncomfortable; again, they'd been talking regularly via text for weeks, which should have precluded any tension. Hell, even when they'd first met and Neji was the pro-wedding enemy it wasn't this awkward.

Without really noticing, Gaara dropped his gaze to the bench behind him. On closer inspection, he realised why Ino didn't mind being rough with the flowers.

"They're plastic," he observed, mostly to himself, but Neji responded anyway.

"Silk, actually. Very high quality. Ino keeps the real ones in the back area. These are almost as popular, nowadays."

"I've never heard that before."

"Should you have?"

"I suppose not." Now that it came to it, talking wasn't that hard. Could the lack of eye contact have been making it easier?

Suddenly Neji was close beside him, also examining the flowers, although he didn't look overly interested in them. Truthfully, they did seem less interesting, knowing they weren't real, and Gaara hadn't been that enthused to begin with. Instead, his focus turned to Neji. He was dressed even more formally than usual and his long ponytail was extra stiff. It wasn't shopping attire.

"I'm sorry about the primroses. I spoke without thinking; I see how it could send the wrong message."

Gaara shrugged his shoulders. From the back room, Ino could be heard humming the wedding march. "I take it she doesn't know?"

"That you don't have 'eternal love' for Tenten? Even if she does, she'll never say anything. She does a lot of celebrity weddings so I'm sure she's grown a little cynical about everybody."

"Why exactly does she do business here when there are five other florists in the same building? It seems like an unwise decision."

Neji chuckled. "Is it still unwise if she makes more than three times what all the others make put together? The real question is why the others haven't given up yet. Ino is a master of her job, so competition isn't an issue for her. Do you think I'd choose a sub-standard supplier for my clients?" he added teasingly.

Gaara didn't feel the need to answer. As far as he could tell, the flowers themselves did most of the real work here, and the florist's only responsibility was putting them into vases. But he knew enough to know when he was unqualified to give an opinion, so he reserved judgement and instead began wondering what Neji had in mind for Ino to do at the wedding. Everything was meant to be tailored towards impressing Gaara, but as they were, these flowers did nothing to increase his enthusiasm. They were just dead plants.

"All right! The order's all set: the columbines will be with the soon-to-be Mrs Sabaku by ten o' clock tomorrow morning," Ino announced, beaming, as she reappeared. Gaara mumbled an unconvincing word of thanks, but the woman waved it away like a fly. "Don't thank me until after the wedding. Trust me; I will perform _magic _there."

She sounded so confident that Gaara almost believed her.

"I know it's still months away, but would you mind sitting down with me now and discussing a few general ideas?" she asked him eagerly. As usual, though, it was Neji who answered her, while taking a mobile phone out of his dinner jacket.

"Ino, it's almost six."

Gaara could see by a clock on the wall that he was right, and Ino did not take the news well. "Six!" she exclaimed, horrified. "How did that – never mind, there's no time – oh! Neji, I never finished the super-sweet's order! Three replacement pink hydrangeas by seven thirty? Ugh, my delivery guy's off for the holiday. I'll have to take it myself before going home to change. Can you give the W.I.A. reps my excuses? Ask them to do my category last?"

"Calm down," Neji instructed. "I'll tale the hydrangeas. I was planning on stopping off there briefly before the dinner anyway. Go home and get ready."

"Really? Oh, you're a star! Okay, I'll just get them – oh, and Mr Sabaku, we'll need to deal with your payment, of course. Your total comes to one hundred and seventy-six dollars. Twelve per flower, plus delivery. I'll be back with the hydrangeas, Neji!" Ino sped off again.

If a hundred and seventy-six dollars was expensive, Gaara didn't notice. He was distracted by his pocked vibrating against his hip – a text message. He wondered who would possibly be texting him besides Neji. He wasn't exactly anyone's emergency contact.

He let it wait, pulling out his wallet instead, dealing with the payment and then leaving as Ino rushed to close the store. It was a relief to get out; however she was at her job, Ino, and flowers in general, did not mesh well with Gaara. He didn't stop to check his message until he was a good distance away from the door.

**Is this better? – N**

Gaara frowned, puzzled. He had received this while standing about five feet away from Neji. Why would he text?

Reading his mind, a second message came through: **I know you're a man of few words, but today it seems like even fewer than usual. I thought perhaps the phone was your medium of choice. – N**

Having not seen where Neji had gone after leaving the florist, Gaara wondered if there was a chance he was being watched. It was an odd feeling. Of course he was used to people looking at him, but only as The President's Son, only watching and waiting for something to report. It was very different when the possible watcher was someone he knew, a proper acquaintance. If a journalist saw something he or she didn't like, Gaara's life was only impacted insofar as getting a scathing comment in a column he'd never read, but if he managed to offend Neji in some way? He had no idea what that would mean.

He looked around, trying to spot Neji, but the arcade was still packed with shoppers. He wanted to reply to the messages, but had no phone credit with which to do so, and he didn't even have a way to relay _that_. If Neji was still around to talk in person …

Well, maybe it wouldn't have made any difference. After all, he was quite right: Gaara _was _less than talkative today, even for him. There was no real explanation, but being face-to-face with Neji again was definitely the cause.

Maybe Gaara was just useless at friendly, non-professional interactions.

With no option but to go home and wrap up Temari's meagre present, he reached to put his useless phone back in his pocket, when it buzzed to life again. He hadn't expected that and almost dropped it, so it was with some irritation that he checked the screen.

**Or is today just not your day? – N**

Neji _must_ have been watching. How else would he keep picking exactly the right time to send these texts? It seemed as if he was trying to force Gaara into answering out of annoyance. Perhaps he did the same thing to people in the wedding business and that was his secret to success. But he had no way of knowing that Gaara _couldn't_ answer.

An idea came into Gaara's mind. Still frowning, he tapped on his phone's buttons repeatedly and randomly, pretending to type out a message. Then, pretending to press 'send', he put the phone away and leaned against a nearby wall, waiting. If Neji really was watching, he would have just seen Gaara send him a reply, which he would never receive. He would think one of their phones was malfunctioning, and if he wanted to know what the reply was, he would have to come and ask Gaara himself.

It didn't take long. After a few minutes Neji's strict attire stood out in the crowd, as did the three carefully-wrapped, pink flowers in his hands, which Ino must have given him, and he approached with an appraising look on his face.

"All right, you got me," he said evenly. "Was that even a real message?"

"No. This phone reached its limit yesterday when you asked if I prefer blue or orange and then refused to specify what you were talking about."

"Reached its limit?" Neji sounded aghast. "Your plan has a cap? That's … shameful. A relative of the man with the greatest technological access in the world has something as archaic as a _cap._"

Gaara was working hard to keep eye contact this time. For some reason he kept getting the urge to drop his gaze to Neji's feet. "Is there something you wanted to say?"

"Yes, there certainly was. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer me to text it?"

"Yes." Gaara felt heat rise into his cheeks. Neji was _teasing _him. Maybe going back to only talking about the wedding would be better.

"Excellent. I wondered if you happened to have plans for the rest of your Christmas Eve."

"If – what?"

That was by no stretch of the imagination what he had been expecting. He wasn't even sure what that inquiry was supposed to mean. Was this business, or social? Or something different altogether? The warmth wasn't leaving Gaara's face, but he no longer had the desire to avert his eyes. Instead he looked curiously, suspiciously, right into Neji's, demanding that he say more.

He did. "The event that Ino and I were discussing before – the Wedding Industry Awards dinner – is tonight. In about an hour, actually. I have an extra seat at my table and it occurred to me that if you were to come along, you would get the opportunity to meet virtually every top-ranked wedding supplier in the country." Gaara must have made a face, because Neji continued, "This is out of no desire to force you to get friendly with them. But if you attend and have a word with just a few that I suggest, I should get enough information to sort out all the other wedding details with no more input from you. You'll be free for the next three months."

So it was business, then. It should have been a relief, but it left a tense knot in Gaara's stomach. His automatic instinct was to refuse – why would he want to spend an evening with an entire group of Inos? – although the prospect of not being hounded about catering and decorations ever again was a temptation. The mirrored hall in the national park no longer seemed as impressive as it once did. And it wasn't as if there was anything waiting for him at home tonight.

Sensing his hesitation, Neji said, "It's only a small, selective group of award nominees. Your … status, shall we say, won't affect the way anybody speaks to you, I guarantee it personally. We'll stay for no more than two hours."

Hell, what was the alternative? Sitting at home alone with the television on all night to drown out the empty lack of sound? "Fine," Gaara assented.

Neji was immediately pleased. "Good. I have one stop to make on the way –" He indicated the package of flowers. "– but we can be there and out by nine o' clock. I'll call a driver."

"I have one waiting outside. We can use him."

Within minutes, the two of them were in the back of Gaara's chauffeured Bentley, the distance between them feeling like five hundred feet rather than one or two, and once again, there was tense silence. Gaara couldn't find any good solution to it. Forcing himself to make conversation, through thin lips he asked, "Columbines. What do columbines mean?"

Neji shifted in his seat. For a moment Gaara thought he wasn't going to answer, but then all of a sudden there came the all-too-familiar buzzing from his pocket. How Neji could type an explanation out without so much as looking at a screen, Gaara had no idea.

**A few things. They can be quite symbolically confusing. They can mean unfaithfulness, trickery, or an apology for either. They also represent a relationship in its early stages. Courtship. Seduction. – N**

As it was, Gaara rolled his eyes and thought it was ridiculous of Neji to sign his messages when they were within arms' reach of each other. However, if he had asked the question after dinner rather than before, perhaps he would have taken the answer a little more seriously.


End file.
